The Deal (21 page)

“I need to get out of here. I don’t want to be late to meet this guy.”

I jumped out of Tommy’s office. Perry followed me into the hallway.

“Jonah, what’s going on?”

I didn’t break stride or look back at her as she tried to keep up.

“With what?”

“With you? Why the extra edge?”

“What extra edge, Per? Since when is my being focused cause for concern?”

“It’s not the focus. It’s the—I don’t know—shortness.”

Before I could turn into my office Carolyn stopped me.

“Jonah, I just got off the phone with someone named Angie. She wants to—”

“Got it, Carolyn. If she calls again this morning, which she will, I’m in meetings. All day. No exceptions.”

Sensing Carolyn’s angry, unappreciative eyes, I stopped.

“Sorry, Carolyn. Good morning.”

Very important rule of thumb about New York City secretaries. They’re all crazy. It is imperative, at all times, to keep them on your good side.

Perry followed me into my office. She closed the doors behind us.

“Ah. Now I see what’s going on. The little plaything from the other night. What’s the problem, Jonah? Having a little trouble taming this one?”

I didn’t answer her. Not only because I didn’t want to, but because as far as Angie went she was right. My cell rang again. I held it up. We both stared at it. My eyes turned to Perry. It was her invitation to leave.

“Fine, Jonah. Just do us all a favor and get this toddler under control.”

She waited for a response. I didn’t give her one.

“Whatever,” she continued before leaving and slamming the door.

My eyes returned to the phone. As I stared at it, the annoying, outer space-like ring poking at my brain, images of both Robie and the guy from that morning in the bathroom blotted my mind. I had no choice. Angie wasn’t going away.

“Jonah Gray.”

“It’s me. I thought after breakfast yesterday I would have spoken to you again.”

Another Seinfeld moment. “It’s me.” No name. We’d been face-to-face three times in our lives.

“What? Are you going to try to tell me that it wasn’t even better the second time around?”

“Angie, you can’t keep calling and calling my cell phone.”

“I know. I apologize. It’s just that I didn’t understand why you didn’t call me.”

Be careful, I reminded myself. Don’t be angry, be tactful.

“I told you my weekend could only consist of a certain deal I’m putting together.”

“So what was Saturday night? After you came home high and pumped full of tequila?”

“That was an unexpected surprise.”

“I want to see you.”

Call waiting. The call was coming from Gallo Booth West. I was supposed to have already left, which was why they were calling my cell.

“Give me one second. I have to take this.”

I switched over.

“Jonah Gray.”

“Good morning, Mr. Gray. Irene Gordon from Jack Merrill’s office. I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Merrill is running about fifteen minutes behind schedule.”

Irene Gordon had become my out.

“Can you hold on?” I asked without waiting for an answer.

I switched back.

“Angie, I have to take this.”

“Jonah —”

“Really. I’ll call you later.”

“I want to see you.”

“I’ll call you toward the end of the day. We’ll figure something out.”

“You have my number, Jonah. You’d better use it.”

Chapter 23

My first impression of Jack Merrill was that he seemed to be a very conservative, mild-mannered type. Turns out he was an arrogant prick. He was somewhere in his fifties wearing a gray two-button suit. He was finished off with burgundy braces, simple gold cuff links to match his gold Breguet, and brown bucks. We were alone in his beautiful Park Avenue office sitting at his personal conference table. A fresh pot of coffee, its aroma-laced steam rising, sat between us. The glare from the sun’s rays bouncing off the glass table was the only light in the room.

“I have read about your team, Jonah. Crain’s, Real Estate Weekly, you guys pop up all over the place.”

“We do our best.”

“Your best is pretty damn good considering what kind of market we’re coming out of.”

“Just trying to put something away for later, Jack. I imagine I don’t have to tell you how quickly a poor market can come nipping at your heels.”

“Amen to that, kid. You’ve been taught well.”

Jack loudly sipped his coffee before continuing.

“Sam mentioned to me you may have a buyer for Lloyd Murdoch’s Madison properties.”

“That’s right.”

“What makes you believe that they’re for sale?”

“Other than the fact that we’re sitting here?”

Merrill thought for a second.

“That’s right,” he pushed out. “Other than the fact that we’re sitting here.”

“I know his financial situation. I know what position each of his holdings is in.”

“And?”

“And cash is finite. Hence the reason that Gallo, a firm not in the real estate business, has ended up with these properties. End of story.”

“What makes you so sure you have all the facts?”

“Again, we’re sitting here, so having all the facts is irrelevant. What matters is that I have all of the important ones, which brings me to a question. Why has the security about this knowledge getting out been so tight?”

Merrill repositioned himself in his chair.

“Jonah, the goal of my getting together with you was not to discuss my dealings with another client.”

“Then what was it?”

“To listen to an offer about a property that we may or may not be willing to sell.”

“In that case, I have a very real buyer for both of them.”

“Sam mentioned that. But you need to understand that we are still just getting our arms around these buildings, assessing our plans for them. Remember, they have literally just come into our possession.”

“You mean you’re honoring the grace period for Murdoch to get his shit together so he can make you guys whole then reclaim them.”

“I mean we’re getting reacquainted with them. We’re doing our proper planning as I’m sure a man of your growing experience can understand.”

Growing experience. Merrill was simply insecure about the fact that I was half his age yet making tons more cash than he was. He had read about my deals. He was jealous.

“They didn’t grow legs or a dick, Jack. They’re still buildings made from brick and mortar with a couple of issues that need some revisiting. Now I know due diligence is always part of any scenario, but things can always be accelerated under the right circumstances.”

“Why the rush?”

“Sorry, Jack. I don’t feel comfortable discussing the future business plans of a client. I’m sure you understand.”

Merrill looked at his watch.

“I’ll need to be on my way downtown shortly, Jonah.”

I had made my point. It was time to back off, keep him interested.

“I understand, and again I appreciate the time you have taken this morning. I won’t keep you. Let me just ask you one more thing. Did I mention my buyer would be willing to pay cash?”

“You did not.”

“Well I meant to. Three hundred twenty-five dollars per square foot.”

Before we had been talking. Now we were talking.

“How’d you come up with such a number?”

“Does it matter? At the end of the day you know as well as I do that no one out there would be willing to pay more than three fifteen, tops.”

I had decided to play at $325. It was a fantastic price for the seller, but what he didn’t know was that I had the leeway to end up even significantly higher if it meant getting the job done.

“I wouldn’t be so—”

“Please,” I cut him off. “My livelihood is defined by how sure I am of that. What you need to know is that there is a reason for the premium I’m offering. A very good reason.”

Guys who pay cash are supposed to get a break. I was coming in with cash at top dollar. I could see the anticipation trying to burst through his chest like a fist punching its way through a plastic bag.

“Which is?”

“I need my inspection team on site by the end of the week.”

“Seriously, Jonah.”

Perry was annoyed with my choice of a lunch spot. I had asked her to meet me across the street from the Chrysler Center, on the lower concourse of Grand Central, at some little out-of-the-way Mexican joint. I was waiting at a small table in the back of the dining room. My back was against the wall so I could see the whole place like I was some mob boss.

“Why this place?”

“Why not? I felt like a burrito.”

She took another look around, her eyes stopping on a stumpy busboy draped in greasy white linens.

“Well, it smells funky.”

When she realized I wasn’t responding she looked at me.

“It’s just lunch, Per. No one’s saying you have to move in.”

“You’re paying.”

She finally took a seat and ordered an iced tea.

“So? How’d he respond?”

Over burritos and tortilla chips and salsa I filled Perry in on the morning’s meeting with Jack Merrill. Perry then brought me up to speed as to the doings in the office. Tommy was apparently working on all cylinders. He had been transformed to his old firecracker self of a young broker and was getting off on the energy that comes with being in the trenches. Energy he had not felt in a while because he had the three of us. To no surprise, Tommy had all of our important, unfinished deals under control.

Perry spent the morning chasing Auerbach. By the time of our Mexican feast, the majority of Cantrol’s board members had been informed of a potential buyer’s interest and the kind of numbers they would be willing to come in at. Her confidence that she would have a sense of their initial reaction by day’s end was high. As for Jake, he had submitted his number, as well as his one-time offer, to Jagger Slevin. He hadn’t yet heard back.

My cell phone, which I had switched to vibrate, began dancing across the table. I didn’t budge.

“I take it you’re not answering that?”

Still I said nothing as the small rectangle slowly, intermittently scooted past my plate.

“What’s the deal here, Jonah? I know your groupies sometimes have trouble getting over you, but this is a bit ridiculous.”

She was right. As much as I wanted to answer her, I found myself unable.

“Seriously. All kidding aside. Everything okay here?”

No.

“Of course. All of a sudden you’re afraid I can’t handle some overzealous bimbette?”

“I’m not afraid of anything. I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying what?”

“That I know your eyes. And every time that cell rings, your ever-focused, unwavering eyes become instantly concerned. They look as if they’re masking something. They start calculating, but in a different way than I’m used to.”

I appreciated so much that Perry, saddled with enough of her own personal shit, wanted to dig. But in no way did I want to burden or endanger her in any way. Even if I had wanted to, where the fuck would I have begun?

“Tell me what’s happening at home,” I changed directions sharply.

“What do you mean? Everything’s fine, Max is doing great.”

“I’m not talking about Max. I’m talking about Brian.”

“Brian. Oh, Brian’s great. He’s, uh, he’s fine. Really great. You know, he’s been really helping with Max, and, you know, he’s been—”

Wrong topic.

“Perry—”

“No, really, he’s been pretty terrific. He’s been, like—”

She was now doing this crisscross thing in her side of Mexican rice with her fork.

“— he’s been, you know, supportive in everything from—”

“Perry, honestly, we don’t have to—”

“Yes, we do,” she perked up, locking eyes with me. “We do need to do this.”

She meant she needed to do this.

“I’m telling you, Jonah, everything’s fine.”

She had regained her composure, but it was forced.

“You just couldn’t be happy, could you?” she continued.

“About what?”

“About the fact that I am finally one hundred percent focused on the task at hand. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone. The other day you were insulted when I brought it up. But today it’s important?”

She wanted to pretend it was about my selfishness. What she was pissed about was the real answer to my original question, the one about Brian and things at home.

“I wasn’t insulted Perry. I was simply trying to—”

“I know, Jonah. Really, I do. Let’s just—”

She was struggling to untangle her emotions. She grabbed her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table.

“Let’s just get back up to the office.”

By six forty-five I was on my terrace, alone. Parker had confirmed Angie hadn’t tried to get upstairs all day. By this point I had made myself explicitly clear with my boys downstairs that no one, not even Cindy fucking Crawford wearing nothing but a teddy, was to be allowed near my apartment. The sun was still going strong. Neo was asleep on my bed; the doors leading inside were closed. I didn’t have my cell, a newspaper, my computer, or CNN. I didn’t have a joint, a drink, a bump. I had my thoughts.

I had gotten to the point that every moment not spent focused on the deal was on Danish Jubilee Egg. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became. I couldn’t have ever been part of the plan. These people, if it was something larger than just the one guy in the bathroom, were just starting to get in touch with me seventy-two hours later. I figured they had needed some time to learn about who I even was. My life, my schedule, my circumstances, past and present. They needed to understand me, a good thing since I needed a little breathing room in order to better understand the landscape of the house of mirrors I had been dropped into.

When Pangaea-Man confronted me in Grand Central, he never even pretended to have a clue about where the egg was, which simply meant he had no fucking idea. He’d tried to bully me with force, like some high-school thug. He had hoped to come off as controlling. Because he so obviously knew so little about the egg’s whereabouts, he had simply come off as desperate, frustrated, not in control.

He didn’t have anything to threaten me with. Think about that. He clearly had no understanding of the egg’s whereabouts, yet he threatened me with my life. All killing me would have done was killed the sought information.